Bro, I'm not an Undead! - Chapter 1505: Cursed Mind’s Eye

A third-rate painter in the past life, and a chaebol in this life.

I thought it was a rebirth flow, but it turned out to be a system flow. I wanted to rely on myself, but you let me use a plug-in.

“Ding! Congratulations on successfully signing in to Mao Lilan. You will be rewarded with a Dacheng-level “Karate”, which the host can receive at any time.”

“Ding! Congratulations on successfully signing in Gin Wine, and a reward of [Servant Contract], which the host can receive at any time.”

“Ding! Congratulations to Suzuki Ayako for successfully signing in, and you will be rewarded with a copy of “Cash Capability”, which the host can receive at any time.”

…

- Description from novelbuddy

Name: [Art Tavel (Zhuang Zhou)]

Occupation: [Demon Warlock]

Class: [1]

Bloodline: [Abyss (0.03%), Human (94.97%), Darkness (5%)]

The descendants of the Tavel family, the bloodline of demon warlocks that had declined, had another “dark” bloodline after the arrival of Zhuang Zhou.

With this bloodline, he can summon monsters from the dark world.

The first thing he thought of was not to drive the summons to help fight, but to wonder if the equipment of the dark world would explode after the summons died?

- Description from novelbuddy

The dark BOSS, who had the privilege of being the last living person on the planet, and the second-oldest brother on the planet was born again.

What should he do after he was born again? Was it to rule or destroy the world?

BOSS said that he was not interested in these, he just wanted to die. In order to let the boss who was bent on ending his own life live, he was omnipotent, and he will be comfortable with the boss, and then helplessly find out…

BOSS was more and more wrong with the style of painting!

- Description from Novelupdates

[Longevity + Discipleship + No Female Lead + Lighthearted Humor with No Tragic Moments]When his master picks food, he spins the table there;When his master chants spells, he chats without a care;When his master takes rest, he sings a lively song;When his master lies late, he bangs the pot along;His master lives on long, but his life is rather short;His master lays him down on the hillside, as a sort;His master lifts a cup, but he won’t take a drink;His master shares a tale, but he won’t stop to think;His master holds a feast, but he leaves the table wide;His master calls his soul, but he’s nowhere to abide.Spring returns to the hills, with blooms so bright and fair,Yet master and disciple are parted, one in heaven, one elsewhere.